Three Keys
by ResidentOwl
Summary: Tony has kept a secret from the Avengers, one that is pivotal to understanding his past and thinly-veiled disdain for Howard, but when they find him at his most vulnerable point, he decides to trust instead of pushing them away. Clint and Tony were thick as thieves before, but this brings the team closer together as family. Musician!Tony, Violinist!Clint, Team!Family


Playlist: **Le Onde **by Ludovico Einaudi; **Vladimir's Blues **by Max Richter; **Clair de Lune** by Debussy; **When Bidden to The Wake or Fair **arranged by Mark O'Connor

-ooOoo-

Clint was the first in the collapse on the main couch in the living room when JARVIS silently dropped them off on the community floor after they had trudged in the elevator from the Quinjet landing pad. He sighed in dramatic relief as he rested his abused body. The other Avengers, sans Tony and Thor, did much the same on various pieces of furniture scattered about the room.

"I've been thinking…" Clint started but was interrupted when a yawn wrenched his mouth wide and unable to form coherent words.

"That's new," Natasha quipped from her curled up position on the Thor sized arm chair.

Clint sent a half-hearted glare toward her general vicinity, unable to see her without getting up, and continued, "… that the Fantastic Four should take care of their own damn villains."

"Hear, hear." Steve replied tiredly and Bruce hummed in approval.

"You don't see us pushing Loki over onto _them_ to clean up. Thor is still in Asgard from the last time Loki did his damn mischief thing and they decide that this is a great day to go travel to a different universe. Not a different country. Not a different planet even, but another damn _universe_!" Clint raised his voice in irritation, "7 hours of non-stop fighting! The Fantastic Freakin' Four should take care of Loki next time he decides to take over the world 'cause he has Daddy problems."

"Tony would share in your raging sentiment," Bruce replied groggily, still recovering from 'Hulking-Out,' as Tony and Clint eloquently put it, for several hours.

"Speaking of Tony, where is he?" Steve asked, pulling his head up slightly in a mock attempt to look for the missing engineer.

"Probably in the workshop," Bruce supplied readily, knowing all of Tony's quirks and tendencies from working with him in the lab for months.

"Let's go get him!" Clint declared with enthusiasm, jumping to his feet, still somewhat jittery from adrenaline rushing through his system for an extended period of time. No one else moved. "Come on. He needs to be included in our after-battle parties where we rage against the Fantastic Freakin' Four and their supposed nemesis, Dr. Dumbass!"

The others climbed regretfully to their feet, knowing they should include Tony, beside he was their team mate and would get a kick out of raging against fellow scientist Reed Richards and his short-comings as a superhero. They staggered into the elevator and JARVIS silently took them to the workshop floor, but when they stepped out it was quiet and upon closer investigation it seemed that Tony hasn't been there for a while.

"Odd," Bruce mumbled, "He wouldn't be asleep in his room for once, would he?"

"JARVIS?" Steve asked, the question implied as he knew the AI was listening.

"Sir is currently in the Music Room on the 94th floor, Captain Rogers."

"Why would he be there?" Steve muttered.

JARVIS didn't answer.

"Tony was oddly quiet over the coms today." Clint started, "I mean you only had to tell us to cut the chatter three times! He didn't fight any differently but there was a distinct lack of… Tonyness."

"He seemed distracted and… brooding." Bruce paused, a sudden thought coming to his mind. "What's the date today?" He asked quickly.

"March 13th," Natasha supplied, and as soon as she said it, understanding dawned on her features.

"What is it? What's today?" Steve commanded in his Captain America voice, while Clint voiced similar concerns.

Bruce and Natasha made eye contact and reached some form of agreement because then Natasha was leading the way to the elevator. "You should ask Tony."

"If he doesn't answer we'll tell you, but it would do him good to get this off his chest." Bruce elaborated following Natasha.

They entered the elevator and JARVIS took them up to the 94th floor in silence.

"Is that a piano?" Clint asked when they step out onto the floor; he tilted his head slightly and stilling as if to catch more of the sound.

"Stark's probably listening to a CD," Natasha supplied, taking point and leading the small group to a back hallway.

"And I thought he only listens to the sound of screeching metal that he calls 'rock music,'" Steve commented, earning a snort from Bruce and Clint behind him.

Their pace slowed as the piano music gained more definition; the sound was haunting and had an odd roughness not heard in professional instruments, and it sounded oddly live. The Avengers stopped dead as they saw Tony through the doorway, completely lost in the music, fingers heavy across the upright's ivory keys, every note held an anguish and pain so deep that the Avengers couldn't even begin to fathom when it had begun to build up. The room itself was lined with more than twenty stringed instruments, violins, cellos, violas, all in a few different sizes; each had their own unique markings. A few cases were also set up in the corner; the room was modestly small but shone with brilliance from the spot lights placed on the ceiling reflecting upon the wood floors.

They last few notes rang out hesitantly and gently as the song came to a close. Tony sighed, slumping down for a moment as if drained and then started a new song, a short one, but no less emotionally wrenching on the haunting piano. Every note felt heavy with a sorrow even though it was a simple melody. It was cold and lonely. The last notes ended, and Tony slumped again, breathing deeply for a few moments. The Avengers made to leave, seeing this is a private moment not to be disturbed, but Tony stopped them.

"You can come in, if you'd like." Tony's voice was soft but still reverberated in the music room, eventually escaping from the live room through the open doorway.

Steve turned back to the others, who nodded and they trailed in, settling comfortably on the floor, waiting for Tony to continue if he wished. They have never seen this side of Tony before.

Natasha broke the silence, "I didn't know you played," she said earnestly.

Tony didn't respond for a long moment. He straightened up and began to play once more, this time it was a recognizable piece, "Clair de lune," Clint breath, softly enough so only Natasha, who was right beside him, could hear. Not that Clint would admit it, but Clair de lune is his favorite piano piece.

The only movement during the piece was Tony's careful but loose fingers, and Natasha snuggling closer to Clint. The music calmed their emotions and pushed their problems away for the moment. Bruce closed his eyes and tilted his head back, relaxing all the tension in his back and losing himself in the beautiful chords. Steve stared at Tony, somewhat bewildered and surprised the billionaire was an artist in his own right. Natasha and Clint simply listened to the man pouring out his soul, tinged with loneliness and self-loathing, into a single piece of music. The last tendrils of music echoed in the room and faded into silence. As if waking from a spell, the Avengers roused and all their gazes settled on Tony's back, who still hadn't moved, his fingers remained pressed down on the ivory keys.

Tony removed his hands gently from the keys, with a soft thump from inside the piano, he smiled at the noise, placing his hands in his lap as he leaned back and looked at the piano. "I first heard my mother play piano when I was four, after a particularly vocal argument with Howard about me, about how my birth was a mistake, how I ruined everything and always will. His breath stunk of whiskey as he told me how much of a failure I was, and how he should have never married my mother. He was drunk and violent, but my mother was able to coax him to the bedroom, where he passed out." Tony paused and placed his hands hesitantly on the keys.

"She pulled me out from under my bed, gave me a hug and told me that I wasn't a failure, or a mistake and she was glad that I was there with her, and that Howard just couldn't see. After I stopped shaking she asked me if I wanted to learn something, and took me to room in the back of the mansion, a music room. She took me to the small upright piano in the corner; it was worn and scratched in contrast to the shining grand piano beside it, something kept out of sentiment. She sat me in her lap and played 'Clair de lune,' when she finished she asked me if I wanted to learn how to play piano. She had me put my small fingers on a few keys and told me to push them down all at once."

Tony slowly placed two fingers down from his left hand and a third on his right down on a few keys; playing the minor chord delicately. "This was the first chord she taught me. It became our own world; one Howard couldn't touch and didn't know about. Between engineering and going to boarding school, she taught me piano and all the classical stringed instruments lined up along the wall, I was a fast learner. Jarvis would warn us if Howard was out of his workshop so we could make ourselves scarce, this went on for years." Tony paused, taking a deep breath and running his hands gently across the ivory keys.

"When I was 11 I left the door open accidentally, Jarvis had driven Mother to the airport so she could go visit a relative. Howard found me practicing. He went into a rage, shouting about disrupting his work environment and wasting my time on useless things. He was drunk. He left and I thought he had gone to pass out somewhere like he always does, but instead he came back, holding an experimental explosive."

Bruce sucked in a breath, and Clint tightened his grip around Natasha's shoulder. Steve stared wide-eyed at Tony's back; he knew Tony's father is not the same Howard that was his friend. Tony had told them bits and pieces about his childhood when they had those few nights where they share a personal experience, something that defined them, but never in such detail; it was horrifying. Tony stopped for a long moment but continued as if they weren't there.

"He placed the charge directly on the keys, creating an ugly crash, and set the timer. He dragged me out of the room. I struggled, I could disarm it if I could get there, I didn't want Howard to hurt my Mom anymore, but he was still stronger than me and squeezed my arm until it bruised. He slammed the door shut. The room was destroyed. He laughed, picking up the bottle of whiskey he left on the floor and walked away. There was no music to comfort me this time."

Tony ran a hand softly, lovingly over the top of the upright. "Mother wasn't due back for two weeks. I salvaged what I could. The upright was utterly destroyed, as were the instruments on the wall, but that useless grand protected a few that were in their cases in the closet. Only two violins and a cello survived. I didn't want Mom to be saddened by Howard. I avoided Howard the whole two weeks, not that he noticed. Jarvis helped me, bought strings, tools I would need; he understood, but Jarvis couldn't bring any wood otherwise he might have alerted Howard to my project. I had to make do with what I had for my robots and whatever parts I could cannibalize. I even scrounged Howard's trash when I didn't have enough. I studied all I could from books, and remembered every little detail of the upright when Mother showed me how it worked. I drew up specs, trying to make the best sound with the materials I could scavenge. In the end I got a Frankenstein's monster of an instrument, made of military grade metal and glass, and some thick wood from a destroyed table."

Tony ran his hands along the wood, tapping when it became metal, making it ring dully. "Three keys." He said softly. "Mother came back to found the room destroyed, Howard never did clean up after his messes, and ran to find me. She finally stumbled upon me in a tiny unused, sound proof office, farthest away from Howard's workshop and the bedrooms. I had shoved the attempted piano in the closet and was currently trying to tune it quietly, which is next to impossible, and I had been working of the same note for more than half an hour. She helped me tune the rest of the strings. I was able to salvage three ivory keys from the destroyed upright, and they became the three notes I first learned." He played the minor chord adding one note at a time, this time it was tinged with sadness.

Tony turned around to face the team; his face was inscrutable, but his eyes betrayed his turmoil. The team was tense under his gaze, rage boiling under their skin for how Howard had wronged Tony, and gratitude for Maria's love.

"Maria was a concert pianist, but the upright was the instrument she first learned on, it was a gift from her parents, and it was always her favorite. The sound of my creation is rough and haunting at best due to the odd resonance of the instrument from the metal and glass. It isn't pretty by any stretch of the imagination, but she loved it anyway and she smiled when I played. I began making other instruments at Mom's urging, it was relaxing, I always was clever with my hands but making an instrument wasn't the precise calculations I was used to in engineering; I was flying blind. The first few attempts were failures, but my second attempt at a violin was acceptable and a couple more followed, then I went to MIT and all that stopped. Creating stringed instruments is something I will never say I am good at, it doesn't come naturally, and I've had to work to get to this point." Tony gestured to the wall with a handful of violins lined up. "Each of my creations has their own little quirks and flaws. It's so different yet oddly similar to what I do in the lab, it's a change of pace."

"I've always wondered if she wanted me to become a professional pianist like she was, instead of an engineer like Howard, but she never mentioned it and kept supporting me in whatever I did." Tony paused for a moment, leaning back against the piano, taking a deep breath. "I guess that's just what Mothers do." Tony didn't speak for a long moment and when he did his voice was soft and carefully void of emotion.

"Howard and Maria Stark died twenty years ago on this day. Twenty years ago, I lost my Mother. I was 17 and at MIT at the time. At the funeral, I said a great many things about Howard and almost nothing about my Mother. When I got home that night, I pulled all the instruments out and placed them in the parlor she loved. I didn't stop playing until morning. In the next few weeks I made a cello for her, her favorite instrument behind piano. That was my tribute to her. That _is _my tribute to her."

Tony leaned forward, head down, hands in his lap. The team waited patiently as a minute, then two ticked by. When Tony finally did look up, he smiled a small but genuine smile. "You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like. I'll be here all night."

Clint disentangled himself from Natasha, who gave him a squeeze of encouragement, and walked over the row of violins on the wall, analyzing the delicate workmanship and care put into their creation. He put his hand out to touch it, but quickly looked back at Tony, asking for permission. Tony nodded.

He delicately pulled the instrument off the wall hook with all the care of holding a newborn child, and in a way they were Tony's children, each with their own voice and personality like Dummy, You and Butterfingers. Clint slowly turned it over in his hands, his back to the Avengers, smiling as he the uneven varnish, the slightly off-center bridge, and the asymmetrical ribs as the wood didn't set correctly.

Natasha watched Clint, a small smile hinting her features, knowing how unexpectedly sweet this moment was for him. Bruce, Steve and Natasha also got up with an encouraging look from Tony and looked at all the instruments laid out, the open cases an invitation to being held.

After a moment Tony also stood up, stretching slightly, and joined Clint in front of the violins. Clint looked up, "First try?" He asked softly. Tony nodded.

Clint put the violin back and walked down the row of instruments, pausing every now and again, as he reached the end he spoke softly, "It's a timeline." Tony started and gave Clint a skeptical look. The others turned toward him, curious, knowing he would continue.

He pointed to a small cello, 7/8 sized; a beautiful chocolate brown varnish spread evenly, stripes of the wood grain showing through the translucent seal, loving care and use evident in the occasional scratch and the worn strips beneath the strings. "Your Mother's death," Tony tensed, and Clint knew he had chosen correctly.

Clint moved to a viola shoved far back into the corner, touching it lightly; it was misshapen with an ugly amber varnish, the color of whiskey. Scratches adorned this instrument, out of carelessness and anger; it hadn't been played once. "Taking over Howard's Company."

He walked over to a violin set dead center in the wall opposite the piano. Clint lifted it off the wall gently, turning it over in his hands. This violin was a bright red, with yellow-gold highlights around the outer edge of the body. It gleamed brightly under the soft light from the ceiling, but the wood was slightly rough under Clint's fingers. Upon closer inspection, small stains and rough areas adorned the crevices of the instrument, hidden from view if only perceived at face value. "The creation of Iron Man." Clint declared softly. The others heard the implied meaning that the violin not only encompassed Iron Man, but the circumstances in Afghanistan and with Obadiah Stane's betrayal. A large part of what defines Tony today. "This instrument is very beautiful despite its rough spots."

Tony let out a cold humorless laugh. "I always make the best things when in pain. After all, that's where Iron Man came from."

There was a pause. "I want to see it," Clint said suddenly, placing the red violin carefully back on the wall hook. Still the others remained silent, seeing this as a moment between two friends who were as thick as thieves, even though their questions burned, and for once Tony wasn't rambling and talking a mile per minute. For a long moment Tony said nothing under the soft gaze of his friends, looking blankly at the red instrument Clint held a moment before while his mind churned. Seeming to have reached a decision, Tony turned and walked to a small door in the corner of the room that the others believed was a simple closet.

Tony gently nudged the door open and soft amber light spilled into the already warmly illuminated music room. Clint peered into the doorway from his vantage point directly across the room and saw the saltillo tile floor dusted in a fine wood powder and shavings. There were some wooden clanks and soft curses as Tony moved around his private wood workshop and the fine powder swirled in intricate patterns around his footsteps as he finally emerged from the workshop, carefully pulling a leather cello case through the small door before him.

His movements were deft as he set it beside the piano and crouched to flick open the bronze latches on the side. Steve briefly wondered why they weren't gold or the case dyed red since the man loved those obnoxious colors so much, but after a moment of thought found his own answer and led him to perhaps understand the man of many facets just a bit more. _This is the one thing he is modest about, he doesn't want to place a mask on something so… personal._

After all the latches had been unlocked, Tony opened the hinged case. The cello was nestled in dark green velvet, held in a seemingly precariously position by a strip of Velcro across the strings and an elastic band around the scroll. Not that anyone noticed, instead their attention was drawn to the deep red wine color of the instrument itself. Compared to the Iron Man violin the color was subdued but it shone with a quiet brilliance. The varnish was light enough for the natural wood grain to show through in dark accents, unlike the violin before which masked the natural texture beneath, breaking the deep red in tiny vertical stripes. It was obvious that the cello had just been finished a few nights ago and hadn't yet been played by the way it shone brightly without the natural markings of fingerprints.

To Bruce and Clint, the two closest to Tony, the cello seemed almost surreal how well it reflected the Tony that the Avengers had grown to know and love as a teammate, friend, and brother. Tony was no longer acted like Stark in front of them. Tony had dropped the masks and had grown to know them on a personal level, even letting them stay in his home, that was a testament of trust they couldn't even fathom the depths of until Tony told them about Obadiah Stane. Tony can be modest at times, they had realized, and is more often not, self-depreciating in his seemingly careless comments. To most outsiders, they can't see how Tony Stark, the weapons developer and war profiteer, could be a hero, Iron Man is the hero. The thing they don't realize is that Stark isn't real; the true Tony expresses his real persona to the world underneath another mask, an iron mask.

Tony turned toward them after only a few moments of inspecting the instrument, although to the other Avengers it felt like hours from how much the cello revealed to them. Tony shifted awkwardly as if just now realizing how personal this was.

"You play violin?" Tony asked suddenly, peering at Clint with clear eyes.

Clint smiled, running a hand through his hair. "How can you tell?"

"Take it from one musician to another, I can tell. The way you held the instruments was a clear indicator especially with these fumbling idiots to compare to." Tony said, falling into a comfortable smirk. He could hear Steve grumblings about 'uncalled for rudeness,' but had already turned and pulled a bow and the cello from where they had been comfortable nestled in the velvet.

"Bruce can you hand me the rock stop and rosin from the basket behind you?" Tony asked, sitting down on the piano bench and laying the cello across his lap to pull out the end pin with practiced ease. Bruce complied and Tony set up within moments. He was rosining his bow with even motions when he quirked an eyebrow at Clint expectantly, "Well?"

"Well what?" Clint asked, bewildered. Tony gave him the look, the one that said oh-how-it-must-be-a-terrible-fate-to-not-have-the-same-level-of-genius-as-me, or for normal people, the one that said come-on.

"Go on. Pick one up and we'll play together. Violin and cello sound great in a duet after all. It'll be much more fun if I'm not the only one playing." Tony had one of those small, earnest smiles on again. He'd never played with another person before, but he had heard from his Mother that it is different than playing alone.

"I don't know…" Clint began, scratching the back of his head, looking down reluctantly, "I haven't played in a while."

"Only a week ago, when you snuck off to the local music store down the street to try out the violins for more than two hours, while you were thinking about buying one." Natasha supplied readily, already anticipating Clint's half-assed refusal when it was obvious, to her at least, that his fingers itched to try out one of the violins lining the room.

"Ha! More recent than I would have thought. Come on. I know you want to try at least one." Tony said triumphantly.

"I haven't had much classical training, and I only know the tunes I learned on the road or from the circus." Clint continued, but he was already surveying the instruments on the wall, looking for the one he should try out.

"I know a lot more than just classical pieces, Legolas." Tony said with an easy smirk on his face as he finished rosining and began plucking at the strings to check the pitch. "Besides I can do some improv. as long as you don't play something in G-flat Major. I _hate _G-flat major."

"Who in their right minds would choose that anyway? I'm a stringed instrument player; of course I'm not going to play in 6 flats!" Clint replied vehemently, shivering dramatically at thought of playing in that god forsaken key. He moved in a complete circle around the room, surveying all the violins, until he settled on the one he wanted to play.

"Can I play this one?" Clint asked tentatively, not knowing if he chose one with some hidden significance. The almost perfectly balanced violin had a simple clear varnish and didn't have any blatant markings of anger, irritation or grief. It was a little rough from where Tony hadn't completely sanded away the imperfections, but who was he to complain, it was a lot better than whatever he could whip up.

"Sure, I just built that one last year, hasn't been played as much as I would have liked since you guys have moved in and I got the hero gig." Tony shrugged easily. "You can use the bow in the case over there." He waved the cello bow in the general vicinity of the case. "I only have a few violin bows since I don't make them myself."

Clint hummed softly in anticipation as he dug out a bow, tested the rosin, and plucked the instrument gently off the wall. There was already a shoulder rest attached to the body so he simply made some minute adjustments to accommodate his more muscular shoulder. He checked the already perfectly tuned strings quickly then shot a small smile to Tony, who nodded to convey that Clint should take the lead.

The others had already settled themselves on the floor against the wall to listen to the impromptu concert from their two resident instrumentalists. Bruce was smiling widely at the scene that he would have never seen coming in a million year. In fact if someone would have tried to make his believe that Tony and Clint played instruments he would have bet all his money and his lab against it.

"I don't know if you know this one but…" Clint started but stopped as he perched the instrument on his shoulder deftly and brought the bow up the strings. He hesitated for a moment, doubting that he could play adequately with so little prep, but Tony's barely concealed excitement at the notion of playing with Clint washed away those feeble insecurities and he drew the bow across the strings.

After the first tentative notes emanated from beneath Clint's fingers, Tony laughed as he recognized the piece and joined in. It took a few moments for Tony to find his fingers with the new cello and adjust to the tiny quirks of the instrument, but soon he was playing confidently, twining his harmony delicately with Clint instead of contending for dominance like Clint half expected Tony to. There were a few shifts that fell slightly flat for both of them due to lack of practice, but unless you were a musician you wouldn't notice.

The beginnings were tentative, quiet and somewhat inquisitive as if searching for the right direction and tone; a few mistakes were made, but were soon smoothed over as the music continued. The tone from the cello turned rich and deep as Tony dipped into the lower ranges of the instrument, his vibrato adding a touch of softness to match Clint's gentle and rich tone. Double stops reverberated warmly, chords were struck confidently, and as the piece picked up in pace Tony and Clint began to grin and laugh wildly as they accelerated perfectly in time with each other.

Steve was astounded by musicality and pure talent held by the Avengers' resident archer and engineer. Alone, Tony had a lonely and cold quality to his tone, but when matched with Clint, the enthusiastic, bright trickster who seemed to love turns and surprises, they filled the room with a warmth as if from a gentle breeze. Their enthusiasm was infectious. Steve's fingers itched with the sudden urge to sketch the scene before him, inspiration filled him as he committed the images to memory for a later time.

Natasha had leaned back, head resting against the wall, eyes closed, relaxing into the tones of the music until it it turned and began to pick up pace. A soft smile graced her lips as she could see just how much Clint missed playing the violin and even more so, playing with other people. He had explained to her one night, how the circus's instrumentalist played old but simple folk tunes and a few others would join in on other instruments, how magical it was to him so hear and feel the music rising and weaving around him, imperfect but brilliant.

Bruce simply rested his head in his hands as he sat on the plush area rug, a broad grin stretching unbidden across his face. Tony was so relaxed in this environment, mistakes were acceptable and perfection was not needed to enjoy the moment of music. It was so different, yet oddly familiar to the Tony he had become familiar with in the shared lab. In the lab his movements were precise, focused and efficient; perfection was necessary to attend to the armor and other tech, but there was also an aspect of creativity and innovation that clung to that perfection, that spurred tony to build brilliant technologically advanced gadgets.

The piece came to a close, Clint and Tony making eye contact as they slowed down and held the last chord until it faded, but continued to resonate softly in the music room. No words were needed as Tony rested his bow gently atop the strings, a smile still clinging to his lips, and began another, slower tune. After a few moments to catch the key, Clint set his violin on his shoulder again and followed.

-oOo-

Iron man slowed his descent to the landing pad of Stark Tower, touching down with an echoing clank when he cut the boot jets. He walked forward purposefully as JARVIS removed the suit with quick efficient movements by the claws; the pieces sunk into the platform to be transported to the workshop where, later, Tony will attend to the damages and scuffs acquired.

Tony sighed as he settled down heavily on a bar stool, closing his eyes in exhaustion just for a few moments. Another long battle, in Nevada of all places, ended just a few hours ago against a slew of mutant chimera, an attempt to recreate the hulk in animals.

None of the Avengers or civilians were injured, but it didn't work out so well for the scientists who decided to play 'operation' with small creatures. Let's just say that rabid, green raccoon-lions and scientists with syringes do not mix very well. Despite the fatigue from a 5 hour battle, the Avengers somehow pulled through a debriefing from Fury in the Helicarrier, which unfortunately was two hours long. The others had piled into a jet, with Natasha at the helm, and Tony flew home alone in his suit.

Tony rested his head against the polished granite counter tops and watched as he breath clouded the stone with condensation, and briefly considered maybe playing a tune for everyone when they got here in the Quinjet before they all retire for the night.

Almost two months since the Avengers had found Tony in the Music room, a routine had been established, after a long, exhausting battle they would all meet Tony up in the music room to relax, and Clint would join in. Then they would go downstairs to eat, and talk about small, inconsequential things, like Pepper, Steve's drawings or Clint's weird obsession with romance novels, and after they pile into the living room, watch a movie and pass out in the process.

Tony was still considering when something gently touched his shoulder and he was jolted out of his reprieve. Tony spun around to see a somewhat worried Bruce with his hand on Tony's shoulder and the Avengers right behind him. They had gone up to the Music room when they'd landed, expecting to see Tony already there like usual, but he wasn't and they began to search for him.

During this mission, Tony was a invaluable asset; he single handedly hacked into the facility to electronically shut and lock all the doors and cages in an attempt to stem the flow of escapees (the team of SHIELD techies couldn't hold a candle to him), while simultaneously re-writing the firewall so the half-assed scientists in the facility would need to spend several hours in order to open the doors. This was before the Avengers had even landed in Nevada, once there Tony had played decoy for the team and flew circles about the Chimera's heads for hours, dodging their razor-sharp claws and corralling them to a trap Steve and the spies had set up. Bruce would have done more harm than good to the surrounding towns and infrastructure so everyone's favorite Big Green Jelly Bean wasn't let out to play this time. Not to mention the all-nighter Tony pulled the day before the Chimera SNAFU working on only God-knows-what in his workshop either for SI or the Avengers.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asks, seeing Tony look up at him blearily. The other Avengers were behind him with mirrored expressions and Steve had that look, the one where his brows furrowed together and he looked ever so slightly constipated.

Clint snorted in the back and Steve's eyebrows shot to the roof before settling into a mildly disapproving and offended gaze.

"I think you're missing your brain to mouth filter, shell head." Clint said with a smirk, but Tony wasn't listening. Instead he was staring at Clint with a slightly confused and glazed look, before something obviously lit up in that genius, and exhausted brain, as his eyes were flooded with excitement.

Before the others could compute the sudden change in demeanor, Tony was across the room and dragging Clint to the elevator with the widest smile on his face. The others filed into the elevator after a moment, a bit confused, but used to the eccentric tendencies of Tony Stark.

"Tony where are we going?" Clint asked, a bit ruffled from finally disengaging from Tony's excited grip on his shoulder.

"The Music room!" Tony exclaimed, as if that was the answer to life, the universe, and everything.

As the elevator doors opened, Tony renewed his tight grip on Clint's arm this time and proceeded to pull him all the way down the hall to the room. Steve, Natasha and Bruce followed at a somewhat more sedate pace, wondering what had gotten into Tony.

"Hang on a moment." Tony said as he pushed Clint down onto the Piano bench. Steve and Natasha settled into the bean-bags in the corner of the room, that had been brought up after the third time everyone had coincidentally met up in the Music room after a hard mission, and Bruce settled into the lotus position on the floor, completely comfortable on the hardwood. Clint sent confused looks to the others, but a few shrugs and head shakes were all he got in response.

Tony strode purposefully into the adjacent wood shop, allowing the ever present soft light and wood dust filter into the main room. There was some banging and loud curses that echoed from the small shop that received a few hearty chuckles Steve and Bruce and a snort from Clint.

Finally Tony emerged from the wood nest gently holding a black leather violin case: the buckles were silver and a purple arrow had been stained along the front length so dark that it only shone under the clear light from overhead.

All movement in the Music room froze, Clint had his mouth slightly open in surprise. Tony had an uncertain smile of his face, as if he didn't know how well his gift would be received and if he had overstepped some boundaries. He took a few steps forward, shifting awkwardly from side to side for a moment before slowly holding out the violin to Clint who still sat frozen on the piano bench.

Clint hesitated for a moment, then reached forward and gently pulled the violin from Tony's hands, placing it in his lap.

Tony took a few awkward steps back, rubbing the back of his neck and his eyes flitted around the room, desperately avoiding eye contact with Clint until they settled on the floor; Bruce could tell that Tony was nervous about being rejected and having his self-depreciating thoughts that his work wasn't good enough for Clint being reenforced. But usually Tony didn't show his uncertainty, it was just another moment that showed how much Tony trusted in them.

Clint ran his hand across the face of the case, feeling the rough texture turn smoother from the stained arrow. His hands fell to the sides as he reverently unlatched the buckles around the contours.

He lifted the case open, revealing the result of Tony's obsession for the last month when he secreted himself away at all hours of the night in the workshop as opposed to the lab.

The specimen was stained an ashy brown with light brown accents worked in the grain of the maple, the varnish was smooth, allowing the natural coloring to shine with a brilliance that no number of finger prints or amounts of dust will diminish. The neck was made of a light wood that complimented the darkness of the body and the scroll was etched with intricate tiny feathers that fanned delicately from the spiral, stained a dark brown with white stripes, like the primaries of a Hawk. Clint spun it reverently in his hands, revealing the back. A stain of a purple arrow along its length gleamed wickedly, almost blending into the dark wood surrounding the design.

Clint was speechless. A fully customized violin. From Tony. Made solely with Clint in mind. After a few moments for Clint to wrap his head around what just happened, a huge grin split his face. Clint looked Tony in the eyes, trying to convey his gratitude for the enormity of this gift.

Tony stopped fidgeting uncertainly, his unfounded fears put to rest with that one wordless smile from his best friend. Tony sent a small tentative one back, and went to retrieve his 'Avengers' cello from the wall after Clint cocked his head to the side questioningly, his eyes flickering to the cello.

Clint got up from the piano bench, placing the case gently on the ground, to allow Tony to set up. After a minute of soft rustling to rosin the bows, taps and tentative plucking to check the pitch, both the violinist and cellist were ready. No words were needed as they simultaneously raised their bows to the strings. No words were needed to convey the happiness and gratitude. No words were needed as they played together, instead they let the music speak for them.

-ooOoo-

**A/N: **Hi guys, so this was my first fanfiction I've ever written. I wrote about a year or two ago when I was listening to tons of instrumental and piano music while studying, and I finally decided to publish it once I polished and slapped together a decent ending. By the way, I've played cello for 7 years, and my older sister plays the violin; sometimes we break out our instruments and do some improv and duets for fun. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing this piece. Review if you have time, and thanks for reading. ~Rezz


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